“Yes, dear. The warmth is what she needs, and your bed must be warmed by a magnetism that should be good for a Magdalen.” Here the new servant, Ellen, came in. Mary, Mrs. Buzzell’s old servant, had taken a vacation, and was visiting her friends in a distant State. Ellen stared at the muffled figure, but her amazement was intense when, in Clara’s room, the partial removal of the blankets revealed a perfectly limp, nude form. “Mother of God, doctor! Where are the craythur’s clothes?” Clara soon produced a bed-gown, and wrapping her in this, placed her in bed and revived her with stimulants. At this juncture Susie entered, and dismissed Ellen. Then followed an amiable dispute between Susie and Clara, as to which should watch with the patient. “Well, my girls,” the doctor said, holding an arm about each and kissing their foreheads alternately, “I will go home and get some sleep. You will take good care of this poor child, and make her forgive us for bringing her back to life. She came to, once, at the station, and reproached us for taking her from the river. Keep giving her this wine, a teaspoonful at a time, and by-and-by something more nourishing. I’ll come over after breakfast. I’m afraid she may have a fever, and give you a great deal of trouble; but I couldn’t—well, I couldn’t do anything but bring her here.” “You did perfectly right, papa, as you always do. Of course, this will prove another blessing in disguise. Do you think she is conscious now?” “Yes; she hears all we say, in a dreamy kind of way, I think.” The two women sat by the patient until daylight. She had opened her eyes many times, looking around as if wondering whether she was awake or dreaming. At last, she looked at Susie earnestly for a long time, and then began to cry. Susie comforted her in the kindest way, telling her she was among friends, where she would find plenty to do, and need never go back to her old life. Later in the morning she woke much refreshed, after a long sleep. At first she thought she was alone; but hearing a soft, low singing, she rose up in bed and saw a golden-haired angel, as she almost believed, sitting on the carpet, turning over the leaves of a picture-book. Seeing the stranger awake, the child climbed upon the foot of the bed, folded her hands demurely, and looked into the new face. “What is your name, little girl?” “My name is Minnie, and I am my doctor’s pet.” “Who is your doctor?” “My doctor! Don’t you know? Why, he brought you here in his arms last night. Mamma said so. Don’t you want to go down and see our conservatory?” Min asked, after a pause, anxious to be quite hospitable. “I fear I am too weak, you sweet little pet, but I should like some water very much.”